Look at this picture carefully and tell me what you see.
Yes, that IS a cell phone in the hand of a teenage girl.
At a state fair.
IN A BABY STROLLER.
We were just sitting around at the Big E Fair in Massachusetts, waiting on the kids to be done on the bouncy thingee and taking in some world-class people-watching.
Then there was this girl.
Just consider, if you will, the melée going on all around this glowing little phone shroud.
A million and one lights flashing, Guns N’ Roses blaring, rides spinning and dropping people at Mach 10, all that delirious screaming, deep-fat fryers sizzling, the steady thump of mole-whacking. There could not be a more overstimulating, kid-centric, happy-making environment this side of heaven’s glory.
Her parents were such jerks to drag her there.
As if that weren’t enough, check out this kid on the swings.
He is literally SITTING ON AN AMUSEMENT PARK RIDE texting. He’s got a whole 30 seconds before getting swung into the rafters. So what better time to post a Yelp review about the elephant ear stand? It’s all about time management.
I’m sorry, but this crap is BANANAS, y’all.
I seriously wanted to jerk those infernal phones out of their hands and launch them straight off the nearest Ferris wheel. Or maybe run them over with the nearest bumper car. Or whack them to smithereens like the nearest mole.
I know I sound totally judgy and ranty, but I am just sick to death of seeing entire families in restaurants, every last one of them nose-deep in a screen. Just last night at the pizza joint, I watched the patriarch of a family ignore his wife and young daughter so he could play Candy Crush. And he’s the grown-up.
We’ve all seen it. Some of us do it. But it can’t be good.
And I’m sorry, but I have to draw the line at FAIRS.
There is life to be lived, people of the phone. There are whirls to tilt. There are giant turkey legs to consume. There are oversized SpongeBobs to win. There are bearded ladies to see (and at the fair, believe me, they’re everywhere).
And thus I must…sort of…quote Lee Ann Womack.
If you get the chance to text it out or dance, oh Lord help us, I hope you dance.
Or at least eat the chocolate-covered bacon and report back to me.